


every minute is a mile

by heretowinbitch



Series: we may never work,  but my god are we good at pretending [2]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-09 08:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18913099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heretowinbitch/pseuds/heretowinbitch
Summary: prompt from msnikkimoneypenny:  Beth going into avoidance mode after Rio said she is just work. So she tries to avoid eye contact as much as possible to avoid looking at him. She feigns being preoccupied looking somewhere else or on her phone. Til Rio tries to reestablish their intimacy.the thing is,  beth is a master at compartmentalizing her problems.  she's been doing it for decades,  after all,  so long that it's almost like second nature at this point.but the problem with bottling everything up and shoving it into a box where its meant to stay hidden,  is that eventually the pressure causes an explosion,  and there's no escaping it.beth's explosion is almost inevitable on one particular night when things don’t quite go to plan.set after 2x12





	1. Chapter 1

beth had told herself from the   _start_   -  way back when the tension between them had first started blooming into something that couldn't be ignored  -  that there was no future for one violent gang leader and one suburban mother of four.   she'd been practical about her attraction to him,  about the way he made it difficult for her to  _think_   -  so she'd made an impulsive decision to get him out of her system so that they could both  _focus_.   

he'd pulled her back in with the swing of a tire iron and an underlying threat of giving away her secret,  and even  _then_   she'd known it hadn't   **meant**   anything to him.

 

the second time had been less practical,  more a result of mourning the end of something that had come to mean so much to her  ( not him,  she'd tell herself,  but the partnership,  the  _thrill_ ,  the way she had felt so   **alive**.  not him,  he'd just been the catalyst ).  but it had still been the end  -  it had been one last time,  one last goodbye,  before the words   _it's  over_   settled in the space between them.   

she hadn't been able to look at him when she said it.

it might have been a bit unconventional  ( some guys send  _flowers_ ,  but whatever ),  but he'd pulled her back in then,  too.

 

this had all been about  _business_   to him,  she knows  -  had known  _then_   -  but maybe a little part of her had begun to allow a seed of hope to sprout amidst the garden of insecurities that live within her.  maybe that's why she'd been ready to lean in at the end of the most infuriating game of twenty questions known to man.  maybe it's why she'd taken the drop to his voice,  the space diminished between them to mean something  _more_   than just a debt owed,  an impossible price to be paid. 

still,  she'd walked away.   _practical_. 

 

and right,  because  _that_  explains why it hurts so damn much when he looks at her and her inquisitive eyes,  demanding something more than   _just  work_ ,   and he gives her nothing,  tells her she's nothing more,  makes her  _feel_   like   **nothing**.

fine,  then.  she will ask for  _nothing_   from him.

 

 

this isn't a  _relationship_   -  it never was.   

it's been a practice in intimidation  ( in manipulation ),  a **power struggle** ,  a partnership,  a   _something_   with benefits.

that doesn't make it a relationship.

 

 

the problem is,  they still have business.  which means they still have to deal with one another.

the money is cooked,  turner and his team have been tearing apart financial institutions all over detroit to match up the counterfeit cash,  doing their very best to follow it back to her and the girls.  and she's a little bit miffed,  truth be told,  that the feds aren't even  _trying_   to use her against the gang at this point,  but seem wholly preoccupied with beth herself. 

rio doesn't seem to give a shit about that,  so she doesn't bring it up again.

but they still owe him  -   _a lot_   -  after ruby and annie's failed delivery,  after whatever grudge he's holding over her head just because he  _feels_  like it  ( she still won't let herself believe he actually cared about their little goodbye sexcapades  -  figures he probably had a good laugh with his boys about getting in her pants,  having a little fun on the side,  that's it ).   

so it's back to drugs.  and it's slow going.

 

he shows up to the drops alone,  at first,  but beth brings annie and ruby.  he doesn't approach her beyond a professional distance when she's flanked by her girls,  and beth doesn't want to allow him even an  _inch_   to work with,  lest he try to manipulate her by proximity,  by touch,  in that way he always has  ( she won't admit it out loud,  but she's a little too **raw** still,  a little bit fragile,  and she doesn't want to give him an in ).   ruby takes to handing over the cash,  beth sits on her swing,  toes still on the ground,  rocking back and forth just as far as her feet will allow.  

she doesn't look at him  -  but she can feel his eyes on her,  and the way her cheeks warm under his gaze. 

she thinks she hears a note of amusement as he confirms the next drop,  but beth still doesn't look up until he's got his back to them.

ruby and annie hang around at her place for a few hours after the first drop like this,  drinking wine and avoiding the topic of  _gang friend_   and just how long it's going to take them to pay him back at this rate,  and other common conversations that used to surround these nights.  she knows it means they can tell she's not herself,  but beth appreciates that they're not pushing the issue.

 

after a couple of similar such meetings,  bullet and cisco start joining him  ( truth be told,  beth isn't sure which is which  -  she knows ruby explained it,  but her mind isn't exactly focusing properly these days ).   he's **colder** ,  then,  without the usual cocky air about him that they'd become comfortable with.  beth still only spares a glance up at him when she's sure he's looking elsewhere,  trying to ignore the way her chest aches at the sight.   one time,  he catches her,  and beth almost thinks she sees something soften in his eyes  -  but it's gone in a flash.   before she can let that cool expression chill her any further,  she goes back to pretending something on her phone is too important to ignore,  and he's gone with his boys trailing behind him a moment later.

 

the thing is,  beth is a master at compartmentalizing her problems.  she's been doing it for decades,  after all,  so long that it's almost like second nature at this point.

but the problem with bottling everything up and shoving it into a box where its meant to stay hidden,  is that eventually the pressure causes an explosion,  and there's no escaping it.

 

beth's explosion is almost inevitable on one particular night when things don’t quite go to plan.

 

"um.  what do you  _mean_   you can't make it?"   her voice is maintaining some semblance of calm as she listens to annie's excuses on the other line.   extra shift at work,  can't turn it down,  sadie's hormones cost way more than she can afford and they're not making shit with this drug deal.  beth bites her tongue to stop from reminding her little sister that it’s  _her_ fault they owe so much,  but the truth is  -  beth is just as much to blame.  it ends with a mumbled _sorry sis_ ,  a promise to make it up to her,  and a click. 

beth sighs as she stares at the phone,  but at least there's ruby.

 

"no can do,  b.  i'm sorry.  remember  -  i told you we're meeting with that shark of a lawyer tonight,  and i don't trust that dude as far as i can throw him  -  which is  _not_   far."    and of course,  ruby  _had_   told beth that she wouldn't be able to come tonight,  but beth had figured she'd still have annie as a buffer,  and when annie bailed,  she'd let everything fly right out of her mind except for the nervous energy surrounding the idea of going _alone_.  she speaks her apologies into the phone  -  for her forgetfulness,  for everything stan is going through,  for  _everything_.

as she hangs up the call,  the dread begins to unfurl in the pit of her stomach,  and beth can feel the panic coming on.  for one insane moment,  she considers asking rio to reschedule the drop  -  but she doesn’t even want to _think_ about going there,  and the can of worms it might open.

 

see,  keeping everything bottled up like that is all well and good until someone gives that bottle a good  _shake_ ,  and things are feeling a bit shook up at the moment. 

the best way to keep her cool?  keep herself busy.

 

so she hauls the bag of cash out to the car,  tucking it beneath the passenger seat before shutting and locking the door,  and heading inside to do some things around the house.  

by the time dusk falls,  beth has cleaned and scrubbed the kitchen,  swept and mopped all of the floors on the first level of the house,  washed all of the sheets,  vacuumed the entire second floor,  and watered all of her plants.

it's therapeutic  -  not only because cleaning has always been a stress reliever for her,  but also because there's nothing more satisfying than a clean house.

 _almost_   nothing.

she's exhausted by the time she peels off her clothes and steps into the bath she has waiting,  and maybe  -  maybe she can rest her eyes for just a minute while she decompresses in the hot water.

 

the water is lukewarm when she’s startled awake by a noise,  realizing her phone has vibrated its way off of the edge of the tub and onto the bathroom floor,  and beth can tell by the lack of light outside the window that it's well after dark,  which means she can probably guess the source of the incessant buzzing on her phone.  she pulls the stopper from the drain and rises carefully out of the tub,  grabbing her warmest robe as if it might ease the chill that's making its way down to her bones.  only once it's wrapped around her and the belt is tied tightly at her waist does beth reach for the phone,  unlocking it to find texts from ruby and annie,  and two missed calls from a number that  -  despite her best intentions  -  still makes her heart leap.  instead of calling back,  she shoots off a text.

_i'll be there in ten._

the response is almost instantaneous,  and she chews on the inside of her cheek as she reads it.

_just you ?_

it shouldn't matter to him,  and the fact that it matters shouldn't matter to  _her_ ,  but it does,  and she's already over-thinking as she gets dressed as quickly as possible,  throwing on a pair of clean jeans and a t-shirt,  and zipping up her purple hoodie.  she grabs her purse and her keys,  not realizing how cold it is until she's outside walking to the car.  but she’s already late,  and beth doesn’t want to waste any more time,  or have to spout excuses to him when she can barely stand to _look_   at him.  so she cranks up the heat in the van,  shooting off another text before putting it into reverse to leave.

 _just me_.

if he responds,  she doesn't see it,  having tucked the phone into the side pocket of her purse immediately after,  focusing on the drive to the park and  _not_   on the way her heart is pounding.  she doesn't want to be doing this alone,  doesn't want to face him head on and look in his eyes and relive the way it hurt the   _last time_. 

but she doesn't have a choice.  so she just keeps driving.

 

it feels like a lifetime between her house and the park,  even though beth knows it's only a five minute drive,  and every inch closer gives a stronger voice to her anxiety.

when she approaches the swingset,  he's sitting on _her_ usual swing  ( alone ),  tapping something out on his phone.  so as not to have to take a seat beside him,  beth just stands  -  far enough away that it almost seems comical,  like they're in this space for unrelated reasons,  and don't want to cross some line that's meant to serve as a barrier between them.

"you're late,"  he says,  finally,  not looking up,  and beth rolls her eyes before tossing the bag down at his feet.  or rather..   _toward_   his feet,  because she's still standing at a distance.  the force of it disrupts leaves nearby,  one of which snags itself on rio's shoelace,  and  _then_   he looks up,  as if he’s only noticing her for the first time. 

whether it's because she's putting so much distance between them,  or because she looks   _just like_   someone who climbed out of a bathtime nap and threw on whatever clothes she can find,  he  _smirks_ ,  and it immediately sets her on edge.  and because she can't catch a break today,   _of course_   he sees it,  and the amusement in his eyes just grows.   

“lost track of time.”  

it’s short,  flat,  and without a hint of remorse,  but it’s true enough.  he stares at her  -  one brow raised  -  before leaning over to grab the bag.  despite it not having landed as close as she’d intended,  he barely makes an effort to reach it  -  all graceful movements,  and beth almost huffs audibly at the sight. 

he stands,  both hands gripping the handles as he holds the bag in front of him,  but makes no move to close the distance.  she’s almost relieved,  almost free and clear,  but  _apparently_ ,  beth can’t keep her mouth shut.

“you’re not going to count it?”   and she doesn’t know why she asks,  doesn’t know why it matters  -  she already knows he doesn’t trust her,  already knows he doesn’t give a shit about her,  it’s not like he’s cutting this meeting short for   _her_   benefit.

so he shrugs,  still not moving beyond the rise and fall of his shoulders,  and beth frowns until he speaks again  -  taking on a dangerous tone she’s come to know so well.  “if it ain’t all here,  i’ll be seein’ you _real soon_.”

she opens her mouth to say something else,  closes it again,  and a shiver takes over.  her hair is still wet,  her hoodie too thin,  and the wind is biting right through everything.  he almost looks sympathetic for a moment,  and beth has to avert her gaze as though the sight of it might physically pain her  ( it might,  she thinks.  it might just irritate the already raw wound she’s self-inflicted in allowing herself to _feel_   something for him ).

when she hears the rustling of the leaves underfoot,  beth assumes it’s just the sound of his retreat  -  meeting over,  time to go  -  and she exhales a sigh of relief.  but she feels his nearness a moment later like an impossible force,  and her breath catches before she can bring herself to risk a glance.

when she _does_ ,  it’s just in time to catch him as he drapes his coat over her shoulders,  and beth is caught in wide-eyed shock for a moment,  staring at him openly now  -  though she’d spent so much time trying to avoid his gaze.  it’s there for just a flash  -  something warm,  resembling concern,  his fingertips lingering at the nape of her neck  -  and then he schools his features,  squeezing lightly at her shoulder once he’s satisfied with the placement of the coat.  “i’m gonna want this back,  yeah?”

she’s still staring,  speechless,  by the time he’s gone,  and the warmth of the heavy coat is nothing compared to the way his touch had burned like a brand into the back of her neck.

 

that little seed is rearing it’s head again,  threatening to sprout into a bud of hope once more,  scratching at the soil she’d tried so hard to pour over it.   and she’s a little embarrassed that such a small gesture,  such a brief touch can have such a profound effect on the wall she’s been trying so hard to build around her heart.

but maybe if she stops bottling it up,  she can at least learn how to cope with it.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "miss elizabeth?"
> 
> she freezes, because the sound of her name in that little voice pulls at her heartstrings in a way she doesn't want to acknowledge, but when she turns back to face him she's all smiles and warmth. beth doesn't know if rio had told his son her name, or if he'd heard it while playing with emma and jane, but he stands straight like a little man rather than a little boy, and she can't help the way her smile turns bright. "yes?"
> 
> "do you think i could come play with emma soon?"
> 
> and really, it's unfair. 
> 
> it's unfair the way this kid makes all of the ice that had been surrounding her heart melt in an instant, and it's even more unfair the way she can see rio's smile out of the corner of her eye, like he's just _daring_ her to say no, daring her to refuse the innocent request of a kid who misses his friend. she hesitates, and her smile must falter at the same time, because marcus already looks on the verge of disappointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> due to overwhelming requests for a continuation... we have... this!  
> there will probably be at least one more chapter after this one!

the coat sits on a peg in her foyer,  staring at her,   for what feels like ages. 

it   _isn't_   ages ( more like ten days )  but beth keeps expecting she'll come home one day and find it gone  -  rio having let himself in and back out of her house...  just like old times  ( she rolls her eyes at the thought ).

but there it sits,  every day,  a glaring reminder of the complete state of disarray that is everything about them.  it goes beyond  _business_ ,  despite his claim that she's nothing but  **work** to him,  it reaches something in the pit of her stomach that likes to twist into dread,  desire,  and maybe something even more confusing than the two combined.   beth is trying not to think so much about those things,  these days,  she's trying to put  ( and maintain )  some much-needed distance between herself,  and rio,  and the kinds of feelings that spark when he's near  ( or when he's just on her mind ).   she's not a teenage girl with her first crush,  she's a grown woman,  a mother of four,  a soon-to-be divorcee,  and the last thing she needs is to complicate things any further. 

so she goes about her routine.

it's carpool  ( and dean is actually holding up his end,  there,  which is extremely helpful on days that beth just doesn't feel like facing  _all_   _of that_ ),  soccer practice,  afternoons at the park,  family dinners  -  and the drugs on the side.   she's pretty much disentangled herself from PTA again,  hasn't made any appearances at school parties.   it hadn't taken much for beth to realize those things just didn't bring the same sense of satisfaction,  or accomplishment that they once had.  and maybe they never really did,  maybe she'd only convinced herself that she was content in that role because she hadn't known anything else.

now that she knows better,  beth still hasn't decided if it's a blessing or a curse.

 

but things are still complicated in a way that makes her uncomfortable.

 

the last drop had been pointedly short one   _gang friend_ ,   and beth had done her best to hide the mounting disappointment as she sat on her usual swing with her arms wrapped around his folded coat when two of his guys walked up without him.   they mumbled some excuse about rio getting tied up,  but they hadn't been interested in offering any details.  beth figures they probably think she doesn't deserve explanations,  has no right to them,  when they're no longer partners.  hell,  his boys probably think he's an idiot for ever agreeing to a partnership with her  -  an amateur,  a _liability_   -  in the first place.   maybe these are her own insecurities rearing their ugly heads,  though,  and she swallows them down with her disappointment.  

 

it's getting cold out,  he'll want his coat back,  he'll find her.

 

three days after the drop,  she still hasn't heard from him. 

she tells herself she's not worried  ( she's still mad in a big way,  still annoyed with his qualification of their business relationship  -  and nothing more,  still pissed at  _herself_   for feeling something for someone who'd been bad news from the start,  and for thinking it would be wise to put words to those feelings  -  even in a small way ),   just sick of seeing that damn coat hanging in the foyer.   

one day,  she moved it and hung it in her closet instead,  but for some inexplicable reason she kept leaving the closet doors open,  so it was staring at her from  _there_ ,  too,  and really,  that had been worse.

back to the foyer it went.

 

"you okay,  b?   you seem a bit..  i dunno,   _off_   today."   they're sitting at beth's kitchen counter when annie asks,  and she glances up to see the way her sister's brows knit together.  it's a little bit annoying,  truth be told,  when their roles are reversed  -  annie playing the concerned one,  while beth is the one who needs comforting  ( she doesn't,  though,  she's fine ).    "oh,  yeah,"   she replies  -  too quickly,  too brightly,  and it earns her a raised brow and a skeptical expression.   "yeah  -  just,  you know,  tired."    her smile takes on a softer tone,  and beth allows her eyes to go into puppy dog mode,  begging for sympathy rather than more questions.   

things have been sort of settling into a routine since the signing of the divorce papers.   they still haven't quite figured out the living situation,   but that place he'd mentioned where the kids stay in the house and the parents switch off seems like a viable option.   it's just that since they'd made the decision  -  and actually started communicating effectively with one another for the first time in probably  _ever_   -   everything has been bearing down on her like a weight on her chest.   she can't really pinpoint the cause of it,  though,  because she thinks the two of them will do a decent job at this co-parenting thing,  and  -  so far  -  it hasn't gotten ugly.

so if it's not the impending divorce and everything that surrounds it causing her to feel like exhaustion has made permanent residence in her bones  -  the only other thing that's different is the business stuff.

or,  maybe more accurately,  the rio stuff.

but she's not thinking about that right now.

 

she's  _not_   _thinking about_   it so hard that when she walks annie to the door after dinner,  she catches a glimpse of the damn coat and  -  for whatever reason  -  she's had enough.

 

the thing is,  beth has always be super organized,  very focused,  and an overachiever in just about anything she puts her mind to.  it's been this way since grade school,  and nothing has changed since.

the other side of that is that she's also impulsive,  sometimes fails to think before she acts,  and it's been known to get her into trouble.

 

so it isn't until she's halfway across town that beth realizes she's probably doing one of this things  -  those get-her-into-trouble decisions.  but she's been trying to get a hold of him since the last drop,  trying to make sure they're set for the next one,  looking for any sort of confirmation  ( she tells herself it's not making sure he's okay,  she's not   _checking in_ ,  it's just business ).   and hasn't heard a peep.   they have another meeting scheduled in a few days and she's not going to waste her time if he's not going to be there.

plus,  winter is closing in on michigan,  and he'll want his coat  ( she tells herself it's probably the only heavy one he has,  so she's doing him a favor ).

it isn't until she's parking the car in front of his building,  looking up to see the glow of soft lighting peeking out into the dusky sky,  that beth really begins to feel stupid about the whole thing. 

but she's come this far  -  no sense turning back now.

the coat is draped over one arm as she climbs the steps to the third floor,  once again marveling at the dingy appearance of the halls and doors in the apartment building in contrast to the pristine and open sight of his place when she'd first seen it.  there are no noises coming from inside the apartment,  and for a few moments,  she participates in a staring contest between the embossed "3b" winking back from his door.  when she inevitably loses  -  because inanimate objects always have the upper hand,  and she's really just stalling for time because her heart is in her throat for some reason and _this is a bad idea,  a really bad idea_ -  beth finally raps her knuckles against the wood. 

the silence stretches,  her nerves run skittering through her body,  and she idly wonders if no one's home  -  if the soft glow she'd seen from the street had been one of those things people do to fake out potential intruders,  making it appear as though someone's home when they're not.    beth and dean used to leave the television on when they weren't home,  but that had been more for the benefit of the dog   ( he doesn't always do well being left alone for long periods,  and the voices on the tv seem to soothe him )   than to deter any potential threats. 

not that it would have mattered  -  the biggest threat to her safety had been rio,  and she doubts the sound of the tv would have given him pause.

she's just made the decision to leave,  ready to turn away with a huff,  when the door finally opens  -  and he's looking smugly back at her,  as though he's not even surprised to see her.  she hates it.

"no fire escape this time?"    his eyes do that infuriating thing where they round out and open wide like he's some innocent boy who's simply  _curious_. 

this time,  she  _does_   huff,  thrusting the arm holding his jacket forward.  "i came to give this back."

it must surprise him,  because he drops the innocent act and meets the statement with an arched eyebrow that really does look curious in a genuine way,  and when he opens his mouth to say  -  to ask  -   _something_ ,  she interrupts before he has a chance.

"things are complicated at home right now,  and i can't have you just showing up and letting yourself in whenever you decide to come get it.  you're not answering your phone or returning my texts and i was in the neighborhood,  and  - "    that had been too much,  and she realizes it the moment his lips curl into that smirk that seems to detail all of the ways he sees right through her  ( and derail her thought process in the meantime ).  she has no reason to be in this neighborhood,  had never  -  in all her time living in the detroit area  -  ventured this way prior to following him here.  but despite being clearly caught in a lie,  she finds her voice,  and pushes through.    "  -  i figured i'd just drop it off,  you know,  save you the trip."    she smiles at the end,  and it's all fake sweetness,  cloying and too thick,  but he still says nothing,  just continues to smirk at her,  so she continues,  a shrug.    "plus,  it's getting cold out."    her voice is smaller on the end of it,  like she's unsure of the words,  unsure of the validity of this excuse,  and his smile grows for a moment before it's gone completely  -  that cool,  dangerous expression taking its place for a moment. 

he doesn't move to take the coat from her.

"you drove all the way out here,  knocked on my door,  'cause you worried i'mma catch a chill?"   

she can hear the amusement in his voice,  though his expression doesn't change,  and it's that cruel kind of amusement that means he's laughing at her and   _of course_   she looks pathetic,  of course there'd been no logical reason for her trek out here in the late hours of the evening proffering a heavy coat and flimsy excuse.  she can feel the color as it begins to rise to her skin,  and beth hardens instantly,  eyes narrowing,  stance stiff,  anger radiating off of her  ( she's vaguely aware that it's misplaced,  that she's sort of acting like a crazy person,  but it's too late and she doesn't much care ).

"oh,  forgive me for trying to return your property,   _my bad_ ,"  it's exaggerated,  as though she's mocking,  and he's smiling again and   _jesus_   she hates that  -  hates the way it makes her  _feel_   -  and she's about to really give him a piece of her mind,  really let him have it,  when some movement behind him catches her eye,  and she's startled enough by the sight of the small body coming up to wrap little arms around rio's leg that her words get caught behind her teeth,  lips parted,  voice dying on her tongue.

"daddy?"   he's bleary-eyed as though he's just been sleeping,  and for an absurd moment beth thinks she's traveled through time somehow and it's no longer late evening but has jumped forward into middle-of-the-night,  and she's so distracted by the sight that she almost doesn't register the way rio softens instantly,  crouching down so he's almost eye level with his son.  beth is frozen in place as she watches the exchange.     "hey, pop.  you fell asleep watchin' the movie,"   he chuckles warmly at marcus,  and receives a toothy little grin in return.    "and i thought you said you liked dinosaurs,  guess not."    he shrugs,  and it's immediate,  the way the kid is alert and on the defensive in that playful way kids take on when they know their parents are teasing them,  but are still just a _little bit_   worried it might change something.    " _dad_ _dy_ ,"    it's saturated with the kind of laughter that only lives in the heart of a child,  and beth can't help the smile that tugs at her lips. 

"i  _do_ like them  -  i  _love_   dinosaurs,  i was just resting my eyes !"    she laughs out loud then,  because that's the sort of thing a kid only says because they've heard a parent use the same excuse,  and the sound of her response apparently bursts the bubble of their private moment,  bringing both sets of eyes up to look at her  -  rio's a little amused,  marcus' a little surprised,  as though he hadn't seen her there.  and she feels a little sheepish,  a lot out of place,  as though she'd just intruded on father-son time  ( because that's exactly what she did ) and now she's at a loss.   _this_   might be why he'd missed the drop,  spending time with his kid and   _of course_ ,  she realizes,  it's probably break time at school,  and maybe his mom can't have him when she normally would.  all of these possibilities run through her head and beth realizes they're both still looking at her expectantly.

she blushes fiercely.

"sorry,  i - uh,"    she's still standing awkwardly in the door,  and has to sort of wedge herself around rio's crouched form to lay the coat down on the chest of drawers nearby.   "just came to return this,  i'll leave you to it.."    her voice trails off at the end,  and she feels like the epitome of stupid,  standing in his place again,  faced with the sight of him and his son just doing whatever it is they do when they're together.  of  _course_   he wouldn't have answered her texts while he's with marcus  -  hadn't he made it abundantly clear that she's nothing but business to him,  and he doesn't let business bleed into his family time.  

pointedly keeping her gaze from rio  ( even though she still feels his eyes following her every movement ),  beth slides back toward the doorway  -  coat successfully returned,  mask back on,  ready to make her escape.   she'll lick her wounds when she gets to the car.  

"miss elizabeth?"

she freezes,  because the sound of her name in that little voice pulls at her heartstrings in a way she doesn't want to acknowledge,  but when she turns back to face him she's all smiles and warmth.  beth doesn't know if rio had told his son her name,  or if he'd heard it while playing with emma and jane,  but he stands straight like a little man rather than a little boy,  and she can't help the way her smile turns bright.   "yes?"

"do you think i could come play with emma soon?"

and really,  it's unfair. 

it's unfair the way this kid makes all of the ice that had been surrounding her heart melt in an instant,  and it's even more unfair the way she can see rio's smile out of the corner of her eye,  like he's just  _daring her_   to say no,  daring her to refuse the innocent request of a kid who misses his friend.  she hesitates,  and her smile must falter at the same time,  because marcus already looks on the verge of disappointment.

"you know,  that's a great idea, pop, i bet emma misses you, too, huh?  been a while since you saw her?"    marcus instantly brightens again as his dad speaks,  nodding enthusiastically,  and rio turns to beth with a look of mischief that makes her want to smack him.  maybe she'll save the violence for a time when his kid isn't watching.

she lets the smile come back to her face.  "i bet she does, too."  and she's nodding,  in spite of herself,  making a mental note to give rio that piece of her mind she owes him later.  "i'm sure we can set up a play date soon, okay?  me and your daddy will figure out a good time for you to come by."    she shoots a pointed look at rio,  one that says   _for this,  you'll have to answer your phone_.   but he's already prepared for her silent accusations,  already reads the sarcasm in her eyes,  and stands abruptly,  pushing his way into her space with little effort in that way he always does.   his voice is low  -  too low  -  when he speaks,  and she flusters a little bit.   "how 'bout tomorrow night?"   marcus is behind him now,  sort of peeking around to see what beth might say,  but he can't see his dad's face from this angle and beth is grateful for that,  because rio's eyes are boring into her like they want to set her on fire,  and she knows she's already burning  -  has been for longer than she'd like to admit  -  but it's just another thing in a long list of   _unfair_   that he would use that against her now,  after he'd essentially called her  _nothing_.

her mouth runs dry,  and she tries for a semblance of that same smile she'd given marcus,  but knows it falls flat.

she croaks out a response anyway. 

"tomorrow night would be fine."    marcus whoops,  and she glances in his direction in time to see his tiny fist in the air.  she really  _does_   smile,  then,  and it only dies when rio's hand is at her hip,  squeezing gently.  she swallows,  turning back to him,  and he's looking smug again  -  she hates it.   she hates that he still has this effect on her,  hates that he knows it,  hates that he uses it against her on purpose when she now knows he feels nothing.  and knowing that should make it easier,  should make it a simple thing for her to disconnect the warmth of his hand from the way her body reacts so immediately to his touch.

it doesn't.  none of it is easier.  and she can't even find it in her to scowl at him because marcus  _does_ have a line of vision to her,  and beth doesn't want to give away that anything might be wrong  -  kids pick up on the most subtle of things sometimes.

"i'll bring him by around five,  yeah?"    she just nods,  silent,  and his grin grows  -  eliciting a roll of her eyes. 

this she can do.  it's just a play date,  he'll drop marcus off and leave,  take care of whatever business he needs to,  and pick him back up.  kids are easy.  it's adults who are complicated.

 _she can do this_.

she steps back out of his reach  -  he doesn't falter in his amusement  -  and leans to meet marcus' wide-eyed excited expression again.  

"see you tomorrow,  marcus!"   he beams at her,  shooting back   "see you tomorrow,  miss elizabeth,"  almost immediately before he turns and heads toward the couch,  and she just catches him flopping down on it before rio puts himself in her line of vision again.  another roll of her eyes.   "see you tomorrow,  elizabeth,"  he all but growls lowly at her,  a look in his eyes that she definitely does not want to try and decipher,  and beth is grateful for the distance because there's a part of her that wants to lean into him,  let him draw her in like he always seems to do with proximity alone.

she clears her throat,  nods,  and turns to head down the hallway.

she's almost certain there's a quiet laugh just before the door clicks shut.

 

it isn't until she's sitting in the car that beth checks her phone and sees a new text from him.   right,  because  _now_   he can text.

 

_let's talk business tomorrow, too._

 

she knows what that means  -  he wants to move the next drop up a day,  since he'll be there to drop off marcus anyway.   beth rolls her eyes,   _of course he does_.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “you takin’ notes?”
> 
> it takes beth a minute to recover from his presence, a moment longer to make sense of his question, and his head inclines toward the book in her hand, brows raising in question. beth turns it over and looks at the cover, the title - _k is for killer_ \- staring back at her. “oh, no.” he laughs, she flusters, standing from the bench ( which is an awful idea because now she’s too close to him ), almost stumbles in her haste, causing him to reach for her, a steadying hand at her hip ( which is so _so_ much worse, but she stubbornly refuses to step away, not when he’s giving her that look all but _daring_ her to ). “sorry, i must have lost track of time.”
> 
> he just regards her silently for a while, before something almost like concern crosses his face. “seems to be happening a lot lately. too much on your mind, mama?” it’s devoid of his usual teasing tone, no sarcasm, no amusement, and somehow that’s _worse_.

she wakes up with the sun the following morning,  and tells herself that the nervous energy pricking at her skin has nothing to do with the knowledge that he’ll be in her house this evening  ( he’s just dropping marcus off, maybe a quick chat about business, and he’ll be gone ), and everything to do with the fact that she has a house to clean  ( never mind that she’d done a deep clean only a couple of days before ), errands to run ( not nearly enough to keep her distracted all day ), and dinner to plan and make  ( as though dinner for five kids is much more work than dinner for four ).

 

she doesn’t dwell on the fact that this might be the first time she’s _ever_ had advance notice before he’s made an appearance at her home,  and that maybe having the whole day to worry about it is _not_ a good thing.  she doesn’t think about how distracted she is at the grocery store,  or how she spends longer in the tub than usual once the house is cleaned to her liking,  or how she goes through five different outfits before settling on one - even though it’s just going to be an evening with the kids.

 

when annie comes by to have a glass of wine and complain about her latest work-based frustration  ( they’re short staffed, but hours keep getting cut, and her paycheck is next to nothing this week,  and when will they be able to take on _more_ in the book club side of things? )  she brushes off her comments about beth’s appearance ( why don’t you curl your hair more often?  it looks so good! and that top makes your boobs look AMAZING ) - at _first_ ,  but finds it a little difficult to maintain her indifference in the face of annie’s suspicious narrowing of her eyes when emma comes in for a juice box and asks when marcus will arrive.

 

“ _beth_ ,”   she all but hisses once emma prances back outside with her juice,  and beth fixes annie with a mild look before allowing confusion to take over her features.  “what? it’s not a big deal, just a play date.” shrugging, she turns back to where the bottle sits on the counter by the sink,  only briefly glancing at the clock to see that it’s just after four o’clock - less than an hour to go - and brings it to the island so that she can pour a little more in each of their glasses.  by the time she meets annie’s gaze again, her sister has her full judgment face on, like she’s about to launch into a lecture, and beth is really not in the mood for it. “don’t even start,” one hand up  - palm out - she brings the glass up to her lips with the other, surprised when annie doesn’t ignore her halting motion and continue. “marcus asked to come over, _you try_  saying no to that kid.”

 

it had been the wrong thing to say,  made evident by the way annie gapes at her,  and beth rolls her eyes in preparation for the onslaught to come.  “and when did you see _marcus_ ,  beth?”   annie is off of the stool now,  hands on her hips, wine glass left behind.  it’s reminiscent of her lecture behind the bar,  and really - when did annie become the lecturer of the two?    “oh please, don’t get all high and mighty about this, rio’s just dropping him off,  and then he’s going to go do his own thing.” of course, she doesn’t know that for sure,  it’s just the way she’s rationalizing things in her head, but it seems logical enough.

 

“i thought you were keeping it   _just business_  from here on out,  i _thought_ we all agreed it was better that way?”   they _had_ agreed to that  - one night, after the little chat between her and rio in the car,  when beth had only partially relayed the contents of it to annie and ruby over a few glasses of wine  - they all agreed it was better. of course, beth has a sneaking suspicion it was the same kind of thing as when best friends in romcoms agree it’s   _his loss_  or   _you deserve better_  when their friend gets her heart broken.

 

but beth’s heart isn’t broken  ( it’s not. it’s _not_ .   _it’s not_ . )   and she’s perfectly capable of keeping things firmly in the realm of business,   _especially_  when that’s all she is to him anyway.

 

“we are,  we _did_ .”   another shrug,  and annie is tossing back the rest of her drink like a shot,  shaking her head as she puts the empty glass back down and beth immediately retrieves it to put it in the dishwasher.  some things never change. “whatever, sis, it’s your life, but i’m not sticking around to see it, like, go up in flames.”    beth’s eyes roll skyward at the dramatics, and she watches annie head for the door. she pauses, expression softening from frustration into worry,  and for a horrifying moment beth is certain her sister is about to really clue in on her feelings, really express a concern that beth isn’t willing to focus on  ( because she’s _fine_ ,  and she will continue to _be_ fine as long as she doesn’t have her sister looking at her like she’s _not_ ).  annie seems to think better of whatever words wanted to make themselves known,  and she smiles a little softly before switching gears - all snark and mischief and beth just _knows_ before she speaks that it’s going to be something indecent.  

 

“just don’t let him fuck you on the dinner plates,  okay? you’ll scar those kids for life.” she’s out the door before beth can respond,  or scold, but the blush crawls up her neck and to her cheeks the moment she allows her mind to rest on the idea,  recalling her story for turner, and _seriously_ regretting repeating it in front of her sister.

 

* * *

 

 

the thing is,  she’d had plans to make sweet pea risotto,  because it’s one of those things that’s so good kids don’t even realize it has veggies.  but it’s _also_ one of those things that takes a lot of time and focus in front of the stove,  and it’s a beautiful day outside - the kids have barely come in all afternoon.

 

so she settles on finger foods  - homemade chicken fingers ( she doesn’t cut them into stars this time ),  french fries, and some raw veggies ( carrots, celery, cauliflower ) to munch on while the rest is in the oven.  it means they can eat at the picnic table in the backyard, there’s minimal cleanup, and then it’s right back to playtime.  the caveat to that is that these are quick and easy, needing barely 30 minutes to cook, and that means she’s left with about 40 minutes to kill before she can expect marcus to arrive  ( even in her head, she’s pointedly avoiding the inclusion of rio, and if she wanted to psychoanalyze herself, beth would probably have a field day with that. but she doesn’t, so she won’t ).   

 

the fingers are laid out on a baking sheet,  the fries on another, and she wraps each with a layer of foil and lets them sit on the stovetop,  ready to go in the oven when it’s time. she pours herself another little bit of wine, and pops a baby carrot in her mouth,  glancing up at the time again. with a mental _screw it_ ,  beth grabs the book she’s been reading from the arm of her favorite chair,  balances it on top of her wine glass, and carries both plus the plate of veggies out to the backyard to sit with the kids.  

 

they barely acknowledge her presence,  so she sits down on the bench facing them,  leaning her back against the table, and opening her book to where she’d last left off.  it’s just some murder mystery - the protagonist of which is a female former-cop-turned-private-eye  - and beth slips right back into the story where she’d left off, engrossed in it to the point that she huffs a frustrated sigh when a shadow crosses into her light,  thinking the clouds are finally rolling in.

 

of course,  clouds don’t typically laugh at their handiwork,  and her eyes snap up at the sound to see rio standing in front of her,  all amusement and casual grace in that way that always makes her want to smack the smirk off his lips.   there’s no point in questioning his presence in her backyard - he’s long since known how to let himself in and out of her property  - but that doesn't make it any less jarring to see him in her space.

 

“you takin’ notes?”

 

it takes beth a minute to recover from his presence,  a moment longer to make sense of his question, and his head inclines toward the book in her hand,  brows raising in question. beth turns it over and looks at the cover, the title - _k is for killer_  - staring back at her.  “oh, no.”   he laughs, she flusters,  standing from the bench ( which is an awful idea because now she’s too close to him ),  almost stumbles in her haste, causing him to reach for her, a steadying hand at her hip ( which is so _so_ much worse,  but she stubbornly refuses to step away,  not when he’s giving her that look all but _daring_ her to ).  “sorry, i must have lost track of time.”

 

he just regards her for a while,  before something almost like concern crosses his face.  “seems to be happening a lot lately. too much on your mind,  mama?” it’s devoid of his usual teasing tone, no sarcasm, no amusement,  and somehow that’s _worse_.

 

now she _does_ step back.  it’s all too much,  too close, too reminiscent of a time before when she’d thought there was something _more_ between them.  she shuts down the thought swiftly like a door slamming shut,  and dog ears the page in her book, settling it down on the table.  she spares a smile for marcus, who has already run to join the other kids,  before heading toward the back door. “i’d better go put the food in the oven.”  

 

she doesn’t have to glance over her shoulder to know he’s following her inside  - they still have business to discuss, after all - but beth doesn’t turn to look at him again until the oven is preheating.  she’s lamenting the loss of her wine - having left it on the picnic table outside - when he holds it out to her. and she hates it,  she _hates_ that he knows her,   hates that he reads her so well,  that he could possibly anticipate a problem like that  ( as simple as it is ) and be waiting with the solution.  beth takes it from him with a small nod, avoiding his gaze even as she can feel it boring into her,  and sips from the glass before remembering her manners.

 

“do you  - um,” her brows furrow as she considers what she has to offer him,  but he’s already shaking his head. “nah, i’m good.” he doesn’t say the words,  doesn’t offer her more ( never offers her more information than necessary ) but something clicks,  some tidbit that makes him feel more _known_  suddenly.   she’s never seen him drink when he has marcus,  nothing more than water, and beth just nods, _knowing_ .   “okay.  just - give me a minute.”   she sets the glass down and heads for the bedroom  - because that’s where the duffel is, where his money is.  this time, beth doesn’t expect him to follow her, so when she turns to find him _right there_ ,  she startles  - and of course,  he laughs.

 

“my,  you’re jumpy,  elizabeth. somethin’ wrong?”

 

“no,”  she says  - too quickly,  too curtly - and he almost looks hurt,  gives her that innocent look again that twists in her gut,  that makes her second guess just how dangerous he is ( to her body,  her soul, her heart ), and before he can reach for her again, she steps back,  slipping one arm under the bed to retrieve the bag. “i could have brought it out to you,”  she offers dryly, straightening, and it’s another mistake because his eyes drag over her slowly before shifting to the bed,  then back to her. she’s immediately affected, like her skin is burning, her insides turning molten, and beth has to swallow down something she might regret.   

 

“yeah,  well -”   he shrugs, smirking at her as though he knows every thought that runs through her mind,  like he can see the way it all replays across her thoughts for a moment before she can tamp it back down  ( but not before her skin flushes red ), looking away. beth shakes her head, holding the bag out to him,  and when he reaches for it, his hand clasps both of hers until she finally meets his gaze again.

 

they stand like that for what seems like ages ( but is probably no more than a minute ),  caught on some precipice that beth doesn’t quite understand, can’t quite put words to. he’s chewing on something  - some words, some thought, some feelings - she can see it in the way his jaw rocks back, the way his lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile.  in the end, he just releases her, the bag transferred between them, and smirks again. “so what’s for dinner?”

 

* * *

 

 

he leaves shortly after the exchange  - much to beth’s ~~disappointment~~ relief,  but not before telling her he’ll be back around eight-thirty to pick marcus up.  she puts the food in the oven, and about 40 minutes later ( once it’s out and cooled down enough )  they’re all sitting around the picnic table, munching away, and chatting excitedly about what else they want to do.  she can’t help but smile at the picture of them - all four of her kids behaving ( for once ), welcoming marcus into the fold as though he’s always been a part of the group.  kids are easy that way, she thinks, and only allows a moment of sadness to touch her thoughts before she moves to clean up the dishes.

 

it’s almost six o’clock when the first sound of thunder begins to roll through the sky,  and danny runs inside with wide, fearful eyes. they begin to count the seconds between each spark of lightning and each echoing crack of thunder,  and - when the clouds paint an ominous image across the sky - beth coaxes the kids inside with a promise of popcorn and movies.

 

her dreams of a relaxing day outside in the sun are quickly squashed when the opinions of five children begin to clash over movie choices,  and beth has to excuse herself ( mostly to hide her laughter ) from the conversation after being told - in no uncertain terms - that kenny is   _way too old_  to watch cartoon movies.   he’s at that age, of course,  where he’s too close to being a teenager for comfort,  and suddenly ( especially with everything going on with her and dean )  he’s claiming adulthood. they squabble like that for a while before marcus wanders into the kitchen,  looking a little bit nervous and unsure of what to do with four loud siblings who can’t agree on anything.  without a word, beth lifts him up to sit on the counter, and he beams at her as she puts the first bag of popcorn in the microwave.

 

it doesn’t take long before jane is waltzing into the kitchen,  triumphantly declaring that _up_ is the movie of choice.  beth risks a glance in kenny’s direction,  but doesn’t dare remind him that up is an animated movie,  as he seems almost content enough with the decision. the microwave dings,  and marcus - a pro at this point - reaches up to open it and pull out the third bag of popcorn by the corners.  beth barely has to give him a look and he begins to shake it, giggling as the steam starts to puff out from the opening.  jane starts to giggle, too, and soon the entire crew has joined them in the kitchen and marcus takes to squeezing the bag a little to release a puff of steam,  grinning from ear to ear when the other kids laugh at his performance.

 

“okay, let’s dump it in the other bowl.”  there are two - one for each couch, so that they don’t all have to crowd together  - and beth takes the first ( already filled ) from where it sits beside marcus, and hands it to jane who promptly grabs emma’s hand and drags her back into the living room.   taking the newly popped bag from his hand, beth pulls it open and hands it back so that marcus can dump the contents into the other bowl. kenny barely waits before taking it from him,  and beth helps him down from his counter perch so that they can both join the rest of the kids in front of the television.

 

thunder booms overhead,  and the kids make a fuss of oohs and aahs.

 

“miss elizabeth?”  marcus stops her with a little hand at her wrist,  and beth crouches down, concern etching itself into her features at the worry that saturates his tone.  “do you think i can sit with you?” she breaks into a broad smile, nodding immediately “of course!” emma and danny aren’t too fond of the thunder,  either, and she stands, leading marcus to the long couch where the girls are already seated. as soon as danny notices, though, he climbs up beside emma,  and jane - already seeing that there will be too many bodies on the couch for her liking - skips over to the loveseat beside kenny. marcus takes a seat beside emma,  danny scoots over to allow room for beth, and once they’re all settled in, she gets the movie going.

 

“okay guys,  has everyone seen this one?”   she’s met with a chorus of yes’s and yeahs,  and beth laughs quietly as she settles back against the couch,  both marcus and danny pressed against her sides.

 

* * *

 

it’s almost eight o’clock when the credits start to roll,  and both danny and jane are asleep. the sky is still dark,  the rain still pelting down overhead, and beth looks over at kenny who sort of shrugs in response before getting up to retreat to his room.  “mommy?” emma is tugging at her sleeve, and beth smiles down at her, feeling a little sleepy herself. “since kenny’s gone can we watch more cartoons?”  this elicits a quiet _yeah_ from marcus,  and a laugh from beth,  and she puts on minions -  a household favorite - before getting up to clean the mess in the kitchen.  

 

it doesn’t take long,  and she rejoins the kids on the couch before kevin, stuart, and bob have even made it to new york.

 

* * *

 

she startles some time later,  a hand squeezing gently at her shoulder,  and beth blinks up at the owner of it, brows knitted in confusion.  minions are still getting up to some kind of shenanigans on the television,  but both emma and marcus are sleeping soundly against her.

 

when she looks from marcus up to rio,  something she hasn’t seen before flashes over his eyes.  it’s gone before her sleep-addled mind can make sense of it,  however, and beth allows a yawn to pull her into a long stretch as she straightens carefully  - so as not to wake the kids. “what time is it?”

 

“nine-thirty.  got tied up -”  his jaw rocks, and he glances to the side,  averting his eyes in a way that almost strikes her as embarrassed.   “i tried texting.”

 

for a moment,  beth’s eyes widen,  and she thinks maybe she’d forgotten to unblock his number,  after all. but a glance at her phone reveals three texts from him  - explaining that he’d be late and apologizing for the whole thing.  she shoots an apologetic look back up at him, grimacing. “i’m so sorry,  i must have been more tired than i thought.”

 

he laughs  - because _of course_  he laughs  - and beth gives him a hard look.  “it’s all good, darlin’, i’m the one who’s late,  why you the one apologizin’?” at that, beth feels a little sheepish  ( though, slightly relieved that they’re back to a more comfortable dynamic ),  but she’s distracted by the way he straightens stiffly, and - maybe she’s just tired and seeing things but  - seems to _wince_ with the effort.  

 

“is everything alright?”  he’s nodding before she even gets the words out,  and she doesn’t really believe him, but before she has a chance to press the issue he’s reaching to give marcus a little shake.  “hey, pop, time to head home.” sleepy brown eyes blink a few times before finding him and she watches with fondness as marcus’ smile spreads across his face.  that familiar ache in her chest follows, and beth has to look away from the gentle affection reflected over rio’s features lest it become too much for her to bear.  

 

“okay but can we come back soon?”   he has yet to pull away from where he’d been tucked against beth’s side,  and she smiles down at him, reaching to muss his hair a bit. “sure, anytime.”   marcus turns that brilliant smile up at beth and it tugs again - that pull on her heart  - a little painfully, a little more real than she wants to acknowledge.

 

“maybe next time it won’t storm, though!”  he hops up from the couch on that declaration,  and rio, upon remembering the storm, shoots her a questioning look  - the silent language that only parents can speak with their eyes, and says   _was he okay?_   and beth answers with her own look of   _he was a perfect angel_.

 

shoes are found,  jacket donned, and beth is walking them to the door before rio turns to look at her again.  “thanks,” he says simply, and there’s no hint of the mischief that had initially surrounded this little get-together,  no residual amusement from knowing he’s still effectively under her skin. “anytime,” she says again, and he steps closer,  stealing the breath from her lungs without any real effort, and beth blinks up at him. “don’t make promises like that, elizabeth,  i might just take you up on it.”

 

and once again,  with minimal effort,  and once he’s through the door,  she’s left reeling.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not sure how pleased i am with this chapter, i've been feeling off since watching the finale but comments/concrit are always accepted!
> 
> send me prompts here or at heretowinbitch on tumblr, because i'm going to need them to keep me going between seasons!


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